Initiative Gambit
by Genko-Yoru
Summary: Wilson has been trapped in Maxwell's world for years, struggling to survive with the other lost souls imprisoned in his sick game. After trials and hardships, it seemed to the small group that escape was only an illusion. But one fatal blunder from Maxwell might have suddenly changed all the rules. For there is a new ruler who sits upon the throne…
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

" That's enough Willow, there's no point in this."

"Nothing is enough anymore Wilson! Quickly, everything's got to _burn_!"

Wilson sighed, keeping a gentle but strong grip on the wrist that held the lighter. The young woman before him grinned wickedly back, the two of them abruptly in a tug-of-war as the rain thundered around them.

"Let me go! Don't you see? He's making it rain on purpose! Whittling our sanity down to taunt us! If we scorch it all down, he'll be so angry that we've destroyed his world. It needs to burn. It's got to!"

"Willow…" He knew that nothing he'd say would break that mad glint in her eyes. And frankly he was tired, tired and soaked and sick of this nightmare. Already he could feel his own mind slipping again, her offer becoming mighty tempting. Wouldn't it be wonderful, destroying everything in a mass of flames and chaos, letting go of all rationality?

But as enticing as that all was, the will to survive was strong enough to push away the madness and the ever-creeping shadows.

"Willow, calm down- " another tug, slowly he edged her away from the fire. "- Think for a moment. If you burn everything there's no way we'll survive the winter!"

"Who cares, we're barely surviving now!" she pulled him back making him lurch, shoes slipping in the mud.

"You do care! I know deep down you don't want to destroy our camp, the madness is getting to you. They're getting to you!"

He could feel himself getting angry, the edges of his vision flickered with shadows. For a horrid moment, Wilson thought the world dulled, whispers scratching at his ears.

"There's no more grass, or wood or anything. Darn rain! Why won't you stop you geezer!" she lashed out at the downpour, at invisible things that only she could see. Wilson clung to her wrist desperately, fearing that if he let go he would finally lose her for good.

"He's not there- "he gasped when she grabbed his collar, tightly pulling him closer with eyes wide.

"You'll help me right, won't you Will? You and the others can all help- "

"Willow." Risking it he let go of her wrist and gripped her shoulders, trying one final plea. "Your mind isn't in the right place right now. You seriously have no clue at what you're saying. Come, let's get out of this rain. Then later we can all talk about defeating Maxwell, alright?"

Shutting her eyes tight, Willow shook her head like she was in agony. "No, no, no, NO!"

She pushed him away with surprising strength. A shrill click sounded near his head as the lit lighter rushed towards his face in her thrashing, quickly heading for his cheek-

Out of nowhere an enormous hand grabbed at Willow's arm, stopping the hot flame in its tracks. Both flinched, twisting around at the great man beside them. Despite the man's massive size, neither had heard him approach in their dispute and now with his intense eyes locked hard on them, they both felt small.

"That's enough, Little Mlle."

"Wolfgang…" Wilson breathed, relief quickly filling him. Willow slacked at the sight of the man, blinking like she had just woken from a dream. Reluctantly, sluggishly, she flicked her lighter closed, shoulders slumping under his hands.

"…I hate this rain. It's too cold."

"I know," Wilson said sombrely, gently letting go of her. The strongman refused to let go though, and with little effort took the woman's lighter from her hand. It was then that the three became aware that another shape was marching towards them in the rain, gray hair whipping around her bony face like snakes.

"What the devil do you think you're doing! Do you have any idea how close you came to destroying us all!"

Willow seemed to shrink under the woman's glare, hiding her face under her soaked fringe. But the older woman was by no means letting her get away without an answer.

"Well? What have you got to say for yourself? Speak up."

Wilson stepped between them, fighting off a sudden weariness he felt. "Please Ms. Wickerbottom, I don't think this is the best time. The rain's been hard on all of us- "

"Excuses! This unruly behavior could have just demolished our camp, burnt all our supplies and guaranteed our demise; all because she couldn't control herself! What if this ends up happening again? What if the next time no one is there to stop her destroying everything? We cannot let this go by because of a little rain!"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I understand, but we can't just yell at what could have been. Nothing came out of it, so there's no point in bickering further."

Ms. Wickerbottom bristled, obviously not agreeing with him. However, she must have decided to drop the matter when she turned to the strongman, eyes narrowed.

"Get her back to my tent. Some sleep and rest should return her hopefully back to some sort of normality."

Wolfgang nodded, softly guiding Willow towards the group of tents. "Yes Madame. Come Little Mlle, let's get dry." With a nod from her the two moved away, leaving Wilson and the woman at the roaring fire.

With a snort of disgust, Ms. Wickerbottom scowled at the mess, surveying how much damage the young lady had caused. "Wonderful. Our supply of grass is wrecked. Not to mention the amount of wood that woman wasted. What even possessed her to go outside in the first place?"

She glanced at Wilson, only to find him gazing out into the forest beyond. He didn't move, water dripping off him uncaringly as he stared off lost deep in thought.

"Wilson?... _Mr. Higgsbury!"_

He jumped with a start, surprised to find the woman right in front of him "…Huh?"

Ms. Wickerbottom clucked her tongue as he focused back to her, confused. "Don't tell me we're beginning to lose you too."

"N-no no. I was just… thinking about things. Your right about our supplies though, that must be dealt with."

He crouched down to the empty chest nearby, quickly working out their losses. "It's not just our grass, Willow's gone through most of our stick supply also," he couldn't help but smirk. "and our flowers petals as well. I'll need to head out."

"Absolutely not! You should not travel, not with the way you are now. Not in this rain."

"I have to before those blasted hounds come. You know what to do if I don't return in time." he chuckled as he walked back to her, peering out at their wooden walled defense. "You'll all be fine."

"It's not us I am worried about."

"Don't be. My head's still with me."

"That might be the case now, but this rain bothers me. Somethings… not quite right. I cannot shake this feeling that something is coming; something awful."

He frowned. So, the others had started to notice the change too. Wilson himself had felt the strange aura that had descended over this place these past months, subtle details that he hoped the group wouldn't pick up on. But the threatening mood was growing heavier, and Wilson knew exactly what was to come. He just prayed they all would be ready in time.

"Which is why I have to go. Now. I'll head down to the next valley, the one with all the rabbit traps and Beefalo. It's a safe trek, one that I've done hundreds of times." Wilson smiled at her, pushing the wet strands of hair from his eyes. "Look after them all for me. I want to come back to an actual campsite; I put a lot of effort into this one."

However, when he moved to go and collect his gear, she stopped him.

"Now listen here young man; you might have survived here the longest, but that does not mean your invincible! At least don't go off alone. Take Wolfgang with you or even that Woodie fellow."

He chuckled at his own joke, giving her a sad side-long look as he replied. "I'm not exactly young anymore, Ms."

"Young enough to still be irresponsible. And stupid."

Her words made him pause to think, realizing she was probably right. It would take one small error on his part, one slip-up, and he could make a fatal mistake. Another companion would be a powerful asset, one that could end up saving his life. Half-heartedly he nodded, seeing the faint smile twitch at her lips.

"I suppose I could take Woodie along, show him how we do things here and such."

"Brilliant. A trip out might be good for that delusional head of his. Now, I'll go and tell him; and don't you dare leave without him, you hear me Wilson? I will track you down myself if you do."

She left him to his bemused thoughts, watching her march off into the rain towards their row of tents. The hissing of dying flames caught his attention, and he found himself staring off into the fire, thinking. He didn't like this. Willow's sudden bout of madness, this never-ending rain and this foreboding feeling he sensed. As much as he hated the very thought, Maxwell might… No, there was no way he was going to talk to that foul man! He would rather face the dark alone, face a hundred hounds, even fight a Deerclops all on his own than help that traitor.

Unexpectedly, almost like _They_ had heard his thoughts, the rain stopped. Wilson looked up at the cloud-filled sky, noting that it became lighter. The fire pit dimmed, the embers slowly fading away till they fizzled into nothing. He turned when footsteps sounded behind him, but a flicker of color caught his eye that made him freeze.

"So, the Misses says we're hiking somewhere. Ah, I can't wait to head out there and explore this place. Eh, Lucy?" Woodie strolled towards the fire pit, a gleaming red axe resting on his shoulder. Peering out of his mass of red hair Woodie watched as Wilson crouched down, picking something from the dirt. "What's wrong?... Wait, what's with the flower?"

Resting lightly in Wilson's palm was a single red rose, it's black stem covered in wicked thorns. "It's a rose," Wilson muttered softly, twirling the flower in his fingers.

"Err, okay? That's nice and all, but me and Lucy want to move. We're burning the daylight here!" He walked past Wilson, twirling the axe in his hands. "I know, I know Lu! No choppin'. Hey, you coming Doc?"

Wilson stood, glaring up at the grinning man. " Wait, I need to gather my supplies first." He called back. Woodie grunted in reply, heading over to look at the fire pit. When the crazy man was no longer facing him, he looked back at the red rose in hand. It was a sign. A sign from _Her_.

He crushed the flower in his hand, grimacing when his blood seeped through his fingers.

* * *

 **AN: So, there we go! I've had this story stuck in my head for a while now, so it's good to finally get it down. Sorry if there were any grammar or spelling mistakes, I'm still figuring out the basics. Also, updates might be a little infrequent with this one, but I do plan on finishing it. Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2 –**_

* * *

There had always been an off-putting mood about the forests of this world, Wilson thought to himself as he walked. It was midday, and through the gaps in the trees the sky still threatened to rain. Shoes squelching from the mud he pushed his way through the pines, making sure the sharp branches didn't whack back into his face.

When the trees thinned he stopped to take a deep breath and exhaled, watching the breath from his lungs fog out into the air. It was getting colder, which meant winter wasn't too far away. The very thought filled him with dread. No winter was even easy, no matter how many he'd been through it.

Taking out his map with a sigh he glanced briefly at the large forest they were in. Far away was the grassland, filled with the tall grass and the strange, pleasant beasts covered in thick fur that he would need soon.

"Blasted, Bloody _Trees!"_

Wilson flinched at the voice behind him; he still wasn't quite use to their newest member lack of stealth. Behind him was Woodie, thrashing violently in a mass of pine needles. He tore himself from a branch, throwing a handful of pine needles into the air with a loud huff.

"I'm going to chop down every. _Last. One._ Of you stinking trees if it's the last thing I do! No Lucy, you're not stopping me this time!"

"Please, show a little decorum would you…" Wilson grumbled, annoyed at how loud the man was speaking. Didn't that fool realize how dangerous this realm was already?

"Ah shut it Doc, if you had been torn to pieces too, you'd be saying the same thing!"

"I'm no Doctor, Woodie."

Wilson heard the wild man growl, pulling out the needles from his bread. "Well, sometimes you bloody act like one."

He whipped his head back, eyebrow raised. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Woodie chuckled, twirling the axe in his hands. "Have a guess, since you're so smart."

With a scowl, Wilson stuffed his map back into his pocket. _The stupid fool! is he pushing my limits on purpose!?_ He usually could handle rude behavior, god, some of the other members of the group border lined insanity. But he had found his composure failing, his nerves twitching again.

Wilson took a deep breath. _Calm down Wilson, you're okay. Woodie is merely…. matching your intelligence and persona to that of a doctor…_

Wilson's eye twitched.

"C-come now Woodie, let's be off…"

Woodie snickered, guessing Wilson had got the insult in his comment, however what Woodie didn't know is that Wilson was ready to smack the fool over the head. It was only his gentlemanly dignity that was holding him back.

They moved on through the dark forest and much to Wilson's irritation they were forced to stop now and again as Woodie became stuck, roaring insult after insult at the motionless pines. By the time the sun began to set they had barely made any distance, and with that Wilson finally had enough.

"That's it!" He snarled, whirling round to face Woodie. "IF you cannot keep up with my pace, then find your own way back to camp!"

Woodie stared at him in a stunned silence, shocked that Wilson was truly angry with him. The man seemed lost for words, mouth trying to form some sort of reply. When Wilson scowl only deepened, Woodie snapped, spewing out his own fury.

"What the hell is your problem? It's not my fault that these trees keep grabbing at me!"

"Do you see me covered in scratches!? Stop thrashing around like a bull and actually avoid them!"

For a moment Wilson thought he had finally hit something in Woodie's brain; that he realized that if he had the brilliance to slow down he might evade the most troublesome sticks. However, the wild man suddenly bristled and raised his red axe high, storming off to the closest tree.

"Bah! I've had enough of this, Come on Lucy! Let's teach these pines a lesson."

"What on earth are you- "

Before Wilson could finish Woodie started madly chopping down a pine. In a series of almost inhuman speed the tree fell, smashing hard into the dirt. No sooner had he stopped he turned to another tree, grinning madly.

"Woodie stop! Are you insane! You can't- _Oh fine!_ Continue that madness, I've had enough of you!"

Wilson turned and stormed off towards the valley, hoping he could make it before it became dark. _If Woodie will not listen to me then he better get used to being alone; see who comes crying back when he's attacked by spiders!_

 _Crack!_

The familiar chilling sound froze Wilson to the core, stopping him in his tracks. Woodie stopped, his axe still embedded into the trunk of a large tree. It shuddered, another crack ringing out. Wilson glanced back to watched the tree shudder, every branch trembling as it awakened with a deep groan. The redhead looked at Wilson with confusion, not understanding why the stupid pine was moving. But the bearded man froze when he saw the other man. The look of pure terror on Wilson's face made every hair on Woodie's beard stand on end. Whatever was happening was bad. Really bad.

"Run… ".Wilson whispered, shifting backward towards the tree line. Woodie wrenched Lucy out of the truck, backing off. But a growl made the man look up, only for his mouth to drop open as clawed hands extended out of the tree and a face…. an evil, a wicked face formed on its needles.

 _"RUN!"_ roared Wilson, turning and bolting into the trees, Woodie barely stepped back before one it's those clawed hand rushed at him, gorging the ground he had just stood. Wilson ran, panic running through his mind. The two of them couldn't stop it on their own, not with the gear they had. It would follow them, follow them ceaselessly till they weaken and could run no more. Of course, they could just run back to camp, Wilson thought; together they all might have a chance. But one look at the sky made Wilson scrap that plan.

For the night was approaching, and with it, an even bigger enemy would come.

Woodie suddenly was to Wilson's right, face plastered with shock. "What the bloody hell was _That_!?"

Wilson slowed to a brisk walk, much to Woodie's surprise. There was no point in running as fast as they could since though the thing moved slowly. It never tired. "I've… called them Treeguards. They appear when… well you chop down trees, it's feasible it became angry when you were axing all those pines, it's kin, down."

"WHAT!? There are freak 'in monster trees here!?" Woodie stopped and grabbed Wilson collar, pulling him close in his shock.

 _"Woodie!"_ gasped Wilson as the Treeguard broke ground, lunging to attack. The two jumped away and rushed off, just avoiding it in time.

"What'll we do?" Woodie hissed through gritted teeth when they came back together. Wilson frowned, slowing again and looking back. "I'm not sure. If the others were here, we could stand ground, attack it fast and hard. Even the two of us could do it, however, the risk would still be too high. But…" Wilson looked at the sky "…. Night's coming, so confronting it would be suicidal. In the dark, we can't see it… and-"

"That _thing_ will show up…"

"Yes."

Woodie swore rudely, "Then we'll outrun it! It's too slow and stupid to catch us!"

"You don't get it." Wilson scowled. "These things are hunters, it will track us down endlessly. No matter how far we run or where we go, this thing will follow us. Trust me, I know firsthand."

"Then we'll have – wait" Woodie paled "What do you mean _"Know_ "?"

Wilson turned away from the groaning Treeguard to glance at the man. He didn't really like him; after all, it was him that got them into this nasty mess in the first place. Not only that, so far this man had treated his predicament in this place like it was some sort of strange vacation. It grinded his nerves at how carefree this man treated their torment. But, Wilson thought sourly, he was now like them, like him. Trapped in a nightmarish world with no way out, no hope.

He was, annoyingly, "family" now.

"I have… awoken one of these before... it chased me, hunted me for _months."_ Wilson couldn't quite help stop the dread that crept up into his voice. He could only remember those months in his early years here faintly, but how could he have forgotten them? The nights running in pitch darkness with nothing but a torch and a mad tree behind him in the gloom. "These things are strong, one good hit from it and you're down. We need to form a plan. And quickly."

Woodie huffed and leaned in closer. "But you got away! You wouldn't be here if it got ya! How did you shake it off before?"

Wilson bit his lip. In those months he had been half insane, barely able to remember his name. There had been a fire at one point; could it... No that wasn't it, the Treeguard still was there. Then it had to be something else…

"There… was a swamp at one point… I can't recall it well, but I ran through a marshland and… lost it?"

In truth, he couldn't remember. There was something in the swampland that had stopped the Treeguard, and he had just wandered off. Next thing, the Treeguard was gone. Woodie didn't see Wilson's confused look and laughed. "Then that's where I need to go!"

Without warning Woodie suddenly pushed Wilson away from him, the sudden force causing him to trip over his feet. Wilson crash into the dirt, feeling his jaw jar at the impact. Furious he twisted back to the redhead, spitting out the grit that had got caught in his mouth. "W-what the devil are you- "

Looking up at him he watched as Woodie took out his axe again and turn towards the Treeguard. Over his shoulder he spoke, a look on his face that Wilson had never seen before. "… I know you don't exactly like me. I'm not as stupid as you take me for… but," Woodie beamed wildly. "I'm the one that got us in this into this mess, so I'm the one that's gonna fix it!"

"Woodie Wait- "

"OI PINEHEAD! Are you looking for ME?!"

The Treeguard pushed itself gently through the trees, rumbling at the axe-wielding man. Its clawed hand began to slowly reach out to him, trying to snatch him before he could move.

"THAT's it big fella, come on." Woodie backed off, smashing his axe into tree trunks as he went. Enraged at the violent against its kind the Treeguard screeched, and with speed it hasn't shown before lunged at Woodie, overlooking Wilson completely.

"I'll meet you back at camp, Doc!" Woodie yelled as he dashed off into the forest, leading the monster away.

"NO! The darkness its- "

"Forget about me! I can handle a night out camping! Worry about yourself!"

Wilson could barely make out the last of Woodie's words as the forest muffled them. As the sounds of the Treeguard gradually faded, Wilson was too shocked to move. Woodie's sudden act of heroism had utterly taken him off guard. In the days that he had known him he had always thought of Woodie as rash, but to casually risk his life? it was something that didn't even cross his mind. He just prayed that Woodie wouldn't get himself killed because of him.

"Night…" Wilson muttered, noticing how the light was waning. He pushed himself off the ground and took off his backpack, searching for the materials he would need to make a torch.

With the torch lit, Wilson watched the last of the light fade, till he was engulfed in darkness. For a moment Wilson panicked, the old fear creeping back into his mind, and for a second Wilson was back to his first night here. Alone, shivering in the dark as that _thing_ hissing around him. He felt his legs begin to shake as the memory overwhelmed him. Fearfully he seized his side, reliving the agony that throbbed there that night and for an instant, he was paralyzed in fear. But the Woodie's brave act with the Treeguard snapped him back to reality. He removed his hand slowly, half expecting to find it dripping with blood. But thankfully nothing but the small pin-pricks wounds from the rose thorns were there. Shaking his head Wilson took a deep breath. He needed to make his way forward, to the grassland and make camp somewhere safe.

He moved slow, eyes trying to scan the darkness in front. The whispers were back, mocking, taunting him into madness. He found himself running faster, moving less carefully as he tried hard not to let them get to him. The torchlight was his safely, within it he was fine-

 _It_ hissed. That _thing_ was right next to him, wanting his death. Wilson shivered, the old scars aching on his torso. He bolted forward, stepping over uneven ground-

-Only for his foot to touch nothing.

Wilson gasped as the giant crevice revealed itself in the torches' light. But he couldn't stop himself as he tumbled forward, his feet sinking into the air. He tried to twist around, hoping to grab the rim before he dropped. But he had been running too fast, his momentum propelling his descent. His fingers clawed at the loose edge, the dirt crumbling in his hands. Before he could even cry out he fell into the cave, torch snuffing out as he fell into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3_**

* * *

Blue, blinding light was the first thing that Wilson saw. His vision swam, shapes and colors invading his sight. Confusion hit him in a wave; What had just happened? He couldn't quite bring the memory back; all that Wilson knew right then was that everything hurt. His bones ached all the way down to his center, his back stung like fire as the blue color danced in his sight with ever blink. There was a pressure in his head; and odd, heavy pressure that made his temples feel like they were going to explode. The world suddenly blurred together; blue, black and white mashing together, making his stomach churn. Wilson squeezed his eyes shut, sweat relief filling his mind when the colors disappeared, giving him a moment of peace to try and grab at his lost memories.

Again, he slowly tried to open his eyes, a coursed groan escaping his lips when the blur of blue return. He pushed through it, fighting for his sight to calm. After painful minutes passed the lights began to still, and the shape of an enormous blue mushroom glowing above him.

Wilson slumped back onto the cold, tough ground, trying hard to regain control of his shaky breathing. He remained as still as possible, every gasp, ever shudder bringing with it a new wave of pain. Now that the world had begun to clear, he found himself fixated on the mushroom, the thing bringing with it the horrible realization of where he was.

The Caves. He had fallen down a hole, yes, it was coming back to him now. He'd fallen down into the dark, into the caverns bellow this world. A shudder of fear ran through him, making him wince as it twisted his aching muscles. Of all the places, the caves were the last place he wanted to be stuck in. In the dark the shadows were great, the monsters stronger and deadlier and the terrors within in it more unknown. Unlike the world above, the darkness was all the time, far more dangerous than anything above ground.

No, this was bad! His breath hitched, arms shaking as he dragged himself up. It took all his left-over strength just to sit up. Dizziness filled his head and to his surprise, a warmth trail ran down his face. Muddled he touched the stuff, pulling his fingers away to spot the dripping drops of maroon on his fingertips. Alarm gripped him, fumbling for his axe as his old madness took a hold of him. The darkness crept closer, invisible hands in the dark reaching out to take a hold of him, making him drag himself to the trunk. This couldn't end like this, he couldn't have struggled this long only to die from a stupid mistake! Bring on the darkness and the shadows and the demons and the bats, he thought, they had no idea who they were dealing with! With his knowledge and science at his mercy, he would smite them all, bring them to their knees like he had before, tear the fabric of their being into the dust piece by molecule piece. He would destroy them, rip them apart, _They_ would not break him, He would break _Them!_ -

And just like a switch had been pulled by some unknown force, his mind clicked back into place. A long sigh escaped him, the madness returning to the deep recesses of his mind. Hidden deep away and forgotten.

"Keep it together Wilson, you can do this"

His voice echoed out, causing him to pause, waiting to see if the sound would summon the monsters. But nothing came.

Using the axe to prop himself up, Wilson wiped away as much of the blood as he could, looking up at the mushroom above. It had clearly had broken his fall, thank Newton, if it hadn't been underneath he dreaded how worse his injuries wound has been. But then, it left him with more questions than answers. Why had there been a hole up on the surface? He had been so sure that all the entrance had been sealed, even going so far as to warn the others in case they accidentally mined one open. So why on earth had there been an entryway, and so close to their campsite? None of the others had come down here; the fact that no rope dangled from the roof was proof of that. Then if the others hadn't made it, who had?

Had it been her? Was this trap to lure him to his doom. Slowly, gently, he stood, leaning heavily on his axe for support. Looking around in the small patches of light, it was clear something had been through here before him. Broken pieces of rock scattered on the ground, scratches, and signs that something had raged through here not too long ago. One of the oddest things that Wilson spotted in the dim light was a group of dark puddles, making it appear that there were missing parts of the ground. He hobbled to one, confirming his suspicions that it was a liquid; a dark, ink-like substance that was sticky to the touch. Where the black puddles part of her doing? It was like she had sent her shadows hands to claw the very stone away, forming the crater for him.

He took a risk. Swaying from his support he stood tall, back as straight as the pain would allow; he couldn't show her any fear. It would mean his end if he did. " Are you there Charlie!?" he called out into the darkness, breath misting from the cold. " If this is your idea of separating me from them, then this is a poor excuse of a plan! You hear me Charlie!"

Wilson waited for a reply, a sign, even for her to appear before him in a burst of smoke and shadow. Even hear her evil hiss he'd had come to fear. But his voice merely faded away, leaving him alone. It unnerved him, the lack of repose. Like she already deemed him a waste of her time. And besides the calm he was trying to display, the fear was creeping back. If his memory was still true, he had left an opening way back at his original camp. But that site was hundreds, if not thousands of miles away. And he was ungeared, injured, and unprepared to traverse the caves.

In all likeliness, he would be dead in the first few days.

His only hope was Woodie, if he survived the Treeguard, that is. He could go get help once they learned he hadn't returned. With some rope and a little teamwork, he'd be out of here in a jiffy.

The only problem, he thought miserably, was that by the time they got themselves organized enough to work together, he'd be nothing more than a skeleton.

No, he was on his own. Just like the good old days, only his brain and his problem-solving to get him out of his dilemmas. He bent down slowly to take off his dropped backpack, taking a quick stock of his items. He had enough food for three days, and plenty of touches. He had some rope, his axe and plenty of flowers for a garland if needed-

 _Tap, Tap, Tap._

Wilson froze, the loud tapping noise catching him off guard. The sound went again, impossible to pinpoint from the echoing cave. He'd never heard such a noise, like empty cups being hit together. There was scrapping sound, a heavy thing being dragged sluggishly along the ground. He tensed as the unmistakable noise of claws clicked against the stone, swinging his backpack back into place as his mind raced with theories.

"Who's there?"

The tapping replied, this time a deep gurgle chugging with it. It was unmistakably a living creature, another monster of the caves that Wilson had yet to discover. Axe in hand he stood he moved back to the safety of the mushroom. Quickly he kept scanning the shadows, a defense plan forming in his head in case a fight ensued.

Finally, movement came from the darkness. In front of Wilson a single, wicked paw landed gently in the light with a click, pausing like it too was wary of him. The gurgling came, threatening and low as it slowly emerged into Wilson's sight. What he saw at first confused him, for what looked like a long, pointed shell emerged, dripping black ooze. But when it's head fully appeared he realized in horror it was a huge, serrated beak, connected to a head covered in a mane of feathers. It locked him with a piece gaze, white eyes burning into him. It stepped gradually into the clearing, it's thin, feathered body dragging out into the open as it's black feathers gave off a purply-blue in the mushroom's light.

Wilson had yet to see a monster quite like this. He tried to group it with any of the other monsters he'd seen, the hounds, the Beefalo, even the long-legged birds in the north, but nothing stuck. The thing was like a mash of them all; a carnivore build at the size of a Beefalo. It hobbled to the side, it's muscles rippling as it padded over the rocks soundlessly, sniffing the air. The tapping began again, coming from its beak as it slapped them together in a quick chatter. Its body unexpectedly seemed to grow, doubling in size. Wilson realized the cause was that on its back were a massive pair of wings, tightly fitted to its back that unless it moved then he couldn't see them tucked away.

Back now touching the mushroom's trunk Wilson raised his axe a little higher, pushing down his worry to focus. Charlie had most likely sent it to finish him off once and for all in the most pathetic, painful way possible. And following the evidence, it was probably the one that had even made the hole above, for it would explain the lack of rope. From the way, it prowled towards him cautiously, he was doubtful he'd last long in a confrontation with it. What was worse, there was so little space to fight in, the blue mushroom was creating a tiny zone of sanctuary. Chances for his survival was falling fast if he fought it one on one.

It was then, as the monster moved ever closer, that Wilson saw the injury on its neck. Deep claw-marked gashes were raked through its neck and chest, which were still dripping black blood, giving him a ray of hope. If he struck them with his axe, made the injuries worse, he could down the beast. He was sure of it. It would all fall to timing and a hell of a lot of luck. Hoping that he didn't get devoured in the process.

Palms sweating on the axe's grip, Wilson backed bit by bit from the safety of the light, eyes locked in terror as the thing lurched to its side. Skimming the border of the shadows, he raised the axe higher over his head, trying to appear as large and as threating as possible. The thing clicked its jagged jaws, hissing towards him slow and calculated. He knew it was about to strike, its neck aching up. On the balls of his feet, a thin trail of sweat running down his check, Wilson waited to dodge, praying he'd make it in time.

In seconds the thing struck, Wilson barely able to twist away in time. Dropped low he felt as well as heard as the beast slammed into the mushroom truck, scythe claws scratching it for grip. Wilson looped around, and with an unsteady roar, he swung the axe down. To his delight the blade connected, digging deep into the wound just like he'd planned. The beast screeched it pain, its body twisting violently and so suddenly that he just had time to moved out of the way of its torso. He tumbled on the stone, knee scrapping as his head rung. The giddy spell returned, his mind ponding like a hammer as his vision darkened. But the danger at hand made him shake off the pain, tightening his grip on the now slick handle.

The beast twisted around the mushroom with a hiss, slinking in and out of the shadows. It charged and he ducked out of the way again, hearing the loud snap of its beak brushed passed his head. Rolling, careful not to drop the axe, he swung again, but this time instead of connecting to the wound, the blade thudded against its beak. There was an almighty _clang_! his arm thrown back by the force as his whole body shook from the shockwave. The beasts own head jerked back, but it recovered fast from the blow, blocking his path with a heavy paw as it dived towards him. Wilson's heart jumped in his throat, sliding under the gap in its legs as he tried to get away before the beast crushed him in its jaws. He tripped on his shoes, crashing to the ground as a heavy back paw thudded next to his head. The beast hissed, rearing back up and Wilson gasped, fear rising as he saw in horror the thing leer back, it now in the perfect position to strike. Almost making himself get up due to the aching in his body, Wilson swayed over the hard stone just as the beak smashed into the stone, mere inches to where he just was.

It was now or never. He knew he wouldn't be able to continue this much longer, what with the drumming thundering in his head. He had to strike now before the thing could hit him. Dragging the blade up he swung one last time, pulling it above his head, aiming the axe home. Finally, it struck hard enough to stagger the beast, the creature snarling as it's legs buckled underneath it from the grave blow. He pulled the axe out, an uncontainable grin forming before he could stop himself, insanity covering his mind like a veil. Yes, now this was more like it. No more weakly cowering in fear at every terror in the dark, this was more like it! He hoped that she was watching this, sending such a creature to attack him, _him!_ Did Charlie really think that some injured, pathetic beast could destroy him? She had to be mad…madder.

In the edges of his vision he could see them, the shadows, their eyes glowing white in the caverns, edging him on. They were whispering in his ear, laughing, telling him what he should do. What he _had_ to do. He smirked wickedly back. Yes, he'd bring the axe down again, and again, and again. Till the beast was gone. Then he'd study it, dissect it, learn every little-hidden secret from it to better his own research-

Wilson gasped in shock, the axe sliding from his grasp. It clanged to the ground, deafening in the muffled silence of the cave as he backed away. The abrupt agony that flooded into his head made him sick to his stomach, gripping his skull in the hope to crush Them out.

"Get o-out… _Get out!"_ He snarled, tugging at his hair. He needed his garland, needed his tent, needed to get out of this darn cave before they tugged him to close to the edge-

He'd all but forgotten the beast, the thing jumping up before Wilson even registered his mistake. Like lightning the creature lashed out at him, one of its large clawed paws slamming Wilson onto the rock. He gasped, all the air from his lungs whooshing out as the creature applied its hefty weight onto his chest. A flash of white crossed his vision as a burning pain shot through his arm, one of the long, scythe-like claws spearing his right shoulder and trapping him on the floor. Huffing, Wilson twisted his body the best he could, hoping to spot his fallen axe, but it was nowhere in sight. The beast gurgled low, it's sharp beak edging closer as it strengthened the pressure.

It dawned on Wilson that he couldn't breathe, the blue light around him turning grey. In a feeble attempt, he tried to pry the paw off with his good arm, but it was a worthless act. Everything was disappearing, the light headiness of his brain making the world spin. It dimmed, blurred and Wilson sagged as the blue light vanished.

* * *

 **AN: And there it is, a _very_ overdue Chapter 3! Thank you to _mrlucky100,_ _awseome5689_ and _Honeycomb787_ for your reviews! And to those who followed and favourited as well. **

**I know it's a terrible cliff-hanger to end on, but that isn't the end and I'm hoping to start updating these chapters monthly. (I hope…) Also, just a little note, the beast in this chapter is based on a shoebill bird, awesome looking creatures…**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4:**_

* * *

A nagging unease had gripped Willow all afternoon. Somehow, she just knew something wasn't right. Was it the rain? The irksome headache? Or was it the fact that she couldn't stop a nervous twitch in the corner of her left eyelid. Maybe it was a combination of it all.

Earlier on, Willow had crept out of the safety of Wickerbottom's tent to apologize to Wilson. Even just recalling this morning's episode left her wincing in embarrassment. Instead of finding the hare-brained man at his usual experiments, Willow he had learned that he left with the new guy that very morning. Left to trek to the valley with the Beefalo. All because of the stupid mess she'd made that morning.

 _Your fault._ That was all Willow could think of. It was her fault they'd lost all their wood supply in the first place. Her fault that the group had been forced to split up. And it would be her fault if anything bad happened to them in the meantime.

She found herself chewing on her fingernail again, wearing it down to the skin. What the hell was taking Wilson so long to get back? It never took him this long, not to travel to the valley over.

"Don't worry, Little Mlle. They'll be back soon." The strongman Wolfgang boomed across the fire pit. With a wild nod, he barely took a pause while he ate the mountain of meatballs before him. She merely scowled back, disgusted that he could be so calm at a time like this. Didn't the fool realize that it was now pitch black? If the two of them got caught without a proper light source, they'd be already dead.

"Stop chewing that nail!" The woman, Ms Wickerbottom snapped next to her, looking up from her current book with a stern glare. The woman had positioned herself next to Willow, so she could watch her for any signs of madness. "Good heavens girl, stop fretting and eat something."

Willow growled, tugging at the ends of her pigtails. "You're not my Grandmother! Stop treating me like a little kid already! And in case you morons didn't realize, Wilson should be back by now. It doesn't take him this long to hike out. Something must have gone wrong, I know it!"

The others however didn't seem all that worried about her comment, all believing Wilson was very much capable to handle the wilds with Woodie alone. But none of them, not even Wolfgang or Wendy, knew how Wilson worked. His method of survival was almost mechanical; everything had to be done right, and as fast and perfect as possible. That's how both of them survived for so long, and it was clear to her these fools didn't understand that.

Returning back to work on the fingernail, Willow stared out into the embers. It was soothing, watching them flicker and dance in their chaotic rhythm. Even if the flames were the source of all her problems, at least they were always there for her in her time of need. From habit, she dug the lighter out of her pocket, flicking the flint with a reassuring 'click'. Again and again she played with the lighter, watching the flame light and die with each flick.

"Have they fallen to misfortune, Abigail?" Wendy muttered to the open red flower in her palms, cooing at it as she stroked the thin petals. "Yes… death is upon them."

"Shut it Freakshow," Willow rumbled, nerves shot.

 _"Willow!"_

"U _rgh_ , I can't take this anymore!" With a snarl she sprang up, Wickerbottom rising to meet her fearing her sanity. Quickly Willow paced around the fire, putting the flames between her and the old bat. "I can't stand that you all don't care that they're out there god knows where. They could be dead and all your worried about is my poor manners."

"Well then what do you suppose we do?" the woman snapped back. "there is nothing we can do until they return. For all we know they are perfectly fine. Woodie is new; inexperienced, and very naive. Wilson likely thought that showing him a few survive guidelines for the future might be in order. Until the morning, we cannot even think about heading out into the night."

"Says you! I'm fine with my lighter- "

"-And risk the whole forest being burnt to the ground in your madness? I don't think so. You're staying right here young lady; even if we have to force you to."

Anger bubbled deep in her chest, threating to boil over. Taking a deep breath Willow prepared to roar back, but Wolfgang cut her short. "Wilson is smart. Maybe crazy and weak. But smart. He'll know what to do."

"You're only saying that to make me feel better- "

"No Little Mlle; you know I'm not. And you know it's true too." He grinned, cheeks straining as he thundered. "Wolfgang knows he's right!"

With a low, long sigh the fury left Willow. Leaving her hollow and tired. He... that big muscle head was right. In a way. Wilson had a habit of worming himself out of trouble whenever his life was in danger. Maybe she was overthinking this? Returning to the log she'd been sitting on, she curled her legs up to her chin.

But the nerves twitch, the itch; it didn't go away.

The shadows were blacker, murkier than normal if that was possible. Whispers and laughter in the dark taunted her, worse than ever before. Even if the others tried to act like all was well, she had this horrible sinking feeling something dreadful had happened. Things had been shifting these past weeks, little things that hadn't just been the rain.

Willow was naïve, even she accepted that. But she was also observant, and by no means stupid. She knew Will was hiding something, something that he didn't want any of them to know. Whether to protect them or not concern them, it had to be big for him not to tell _her_. Wolfgang and Wendy might have been trapped here longer than the old bat, but they didn't know Wilson like she did.

Once, it had been just the two of them. Them versus the world. But in the first months struggling against that bitter winter, Wilson had been a very different man than he was now. He had been shattered, angry and just plain mad. The things he'd told her in his bouts of madness… it had left her shivering in fear of what was to come. But then something changed, like a switch, he'd changed.

Willow believed he'd pushed down the memories of that dark place so deep even he himself had forgotten them. These days Wilson was a calm, collected man with an eccentric love for experimenting; and on the rare occasion possessed an odd sense of humor. One day they found Wolfgang, then followed by the freaky death girl. A year later the old crone showed up and their little group grew bigger. No one had chosen him; but somehow, he'd ended up as their leader, teaching them how to survive this cruel game.

She suddenly realized, staring back into the flames; that she'd become dependent on him. How would they survive without his knowledge? That was why this nervous twitch wouldn't leave her, she pondered. It wasn't that she was worried about that new guy, it was that she was worried if they lost Will, they wouldn't live out the week. The hounds were coming soon, the days getting shorter and shorter. And with winter on the horizon, they needed all the help they could get.

With a click Willow returned to her lighter, flicking it back and forth again and again. She needed to calm down. Be ignorant like the others and believe everything was fine. That was how she wasn't going to go mad tonight.

There was a choking gasp, Wolfgang quickly swallowing the last of the meatballs as he flailed. "Look!" he yelled, pointing wildly into the dark behind her. "their back!"

It was like Willow had been zapped by lightning. Swiftly she jumped up, twisting round to peer out into the gap of their walls. There, moving zigzag through the trees was a flame. A torch, glowing faintly in the dark.

"There back," Willow breathed, not bothering to hide the relief that crossed her face. Stepping over the log she hurried towards the entrance, repeating her apology to Will again in her head. Lightly stepping around their farms she paused at the wall to flick her lighter on, smoothing out her skirt.

"Wilson?" she called out as the figure grew close. "Oh, thank god, you gave me quite a- _Urgh!"_

The figure moved into her light, caked in half-dried mud and sticks. At first, Willow thought it was one of those fish monsters sneaking out from the marshlands, but when the thing grinned madly back at her, red ax gripped in hand, she recognized at once who it was.

"W-Woodie?" Willow whispered, watching the man try and rub off the purple mud stuck to his beard.

"Hey gal, _Few_ , that was a close one!"

"Where's Wilson?" she tried to spot him behind the man, thinking that maybe Wilson had followed further back just in case. But there was no other light-source to be seen.

Woodie tied the ax to his belt, scratching away the grime from his nose. "You have no idea how hard it was to find this place in the dark. It's a miracle that I found it at all, right Lu- "

Willow grabbed his collar, pulling him down eye level with startling strength. " _Where's Wilson!_ " she shrieked, seconds away from setting the moron's beard on fire.

Woodie's grin faltered. "Wait… He ain't back yet?"

 _"No!"_

The others rushed to them, hearing her distress. Wickerbottom quickly returned Woodie's collar to him, gently pushing Willow away. "What happened? Why isn't' Wilson with you?"

The man frowned, looking at each of them in turn. "Well… there was this tree monster… a Treeguard, that's what he called it. It attacked us. Well… _Me_ , and I lured it to this swamp. All these tentacles just came up blooming out of nowhere and attacked it and I got away."

He turned back to Willow, suddenly anxious. "We split up when the thing attacked. I thought he'd make it back here. Told him not to worry about me-"

"- _You left him_? Why the hell did you do that genius!" She pushed passed the woman, pointing her finger savagely in his chest. "Do you have any idea how freaking dangerous this world is! No, of course, you don't. Everything here's just one big camping trip to you, a walk in the park that you can just skip around all merry with your girlfriend of an ax. Well, I hate to break it to you _buddy_ , but this isn't some holiday! Wilson could die out there on his own!"

"That's enough girl, yelling won't help this." Wickerbottom lightly gripped her shoulder, softly trying to guide her back to the light. "Wilson perhaps went to the valley like he planned and decided coming back in the dark was not a good idea. Just because he left Woodie does not mean he is in trouble."

Willow shook off the hand. "It's not monsters I'm worried about. It's his mind! The longer he's out there alone, the more he'll lose it." She gazed out into the night, heart hammering.

She was scared. Wilson wouldn't have continued alone, would he? Not with Woodie being in danger of a Treeguard. He would have come back to camp, got them organized to fight that Treeguard as a group and headed out armed and ready. But if he did go on alone, what the hell would he be thinking? In the dark, without a proper camp his madness would come back. And with things so unpredictable, who knows what could happen out there?

"I'm going to find him." She stated, quickly running out into the dark before any of them could stop her.

" _Willow!_ You get back here this instant! You cannot go out there in your current state- "

 _"Just try and stop me!"_ Willow screamed back, lighter held high. Increasing her speed, she bolted down the path she had traveled hundreds of times before.

Wickerbottom readied herself to try and run after her, but Wolfgang rushed forward before she had the chance, lighting a touch as he went. "I'll go with her."

But he stopped just as he was about to sprint off, looking fearfully back at the little group. "The Hounds…"

"We'll be fine." She sighed back, straightening her glasses. "I'm more worried about those two than us. Go, and bring them both back."

He nodded with a grunt, galloping off after the young girl, leaving the three behind. The old woman sighed again, abruptly feeling very tried. Of course, things couldn't have gone smooth. Why hadn't Higgsbury listened to her in the first place? Now, the party was split, and in more peril than before.

"Woe, it's like Abigail said;" Wendy breathed moanfully beside her, "Death is upon them."

Wickerbottom looked down at the strange girl, watching her play with the flower in her hands. "I hope your wrong, dear, I dearly hope you are wrong."

Taking a deep breath, she comprehended she was now in charge of this sad little group. That their lives now rested with her. Sternly she turned to Woodie, peering at his shabby appearance.

"Now, we have much to do and little time to do so. The Hounds are hastily approaching, and we still must prepare for winter. Woodie, you have never fought them before, so I advise you to listen to what I tell you. But first; go get yourself cleaned up. You reek."

He blushed, thankful she couldn't see it. "Yes Ma'am."

With a small nod, she took one last, long look out into the night, before turning back to their dying fire. Just as she was about to walk over before it went out, she froze when she felt the little girl's hand snake into hers. Such an uncommon thing for the usually emotionless girl to do, that she was taken aback.

She squeezed the fragile hand back, unsure if she did it for the girl's sake, or for her own.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Chapter 5_**

* * *

At first, Wilson wasn't quite sure if he was still alive. The blue light was still there, burning into his vision. And yet something seemed wrong. Everything around him seemed to be moving in slow motion. A rumble thundered around him like an earthquake was coursing through his body with each passing second. He felt flimsy, his mind stuffed with cotton. And for a moment he forgot how to move, how to breathe, the weightlessness dulling his world.

When he finally recalled how to work his lungs, he found it was difficult to do so. Something heavy was crushing down onto his chest, pressing down on his aching lungs and stopping what little life he had left. He just lay there, the only thing on his mind was to stay alive, one painful breath at a time.

What had he been doing? Confusion pressed onto his brain, Wilson trying to pick up the pieces. It was something important, something terrible that he must remember. And quick.

 _The beast._

He groaned as the memory hit him. Yes, he remembered now. The creature had been upon him, looming over in what seemed like mere seconds ago. It had pinned him with a wicked paw, posed to finish him off for good. And yet he was alive, if barely. That befuddled him the most, why was he still alive?

Gritting his teeth Wilson tried once again to move, only learning that his neck was still responsive.

He bent back his head as far as it would go, straining the muscles to their max. As he shifted he felt something light trickle down his face, something wet and cool trailing down the bridge of his nose. Or maybe it was nothing more than his imagination, and that the feeling was from inside his head, not out.

It took a moment to focus on the darkness, the blue light illuminating enough to make out its form. Stretching away from him was the long neck of the creature, it's head twisting awkwardly on the stone. It wasn't moving, black, oozing puddling growing from the wounds in its neck. Wilson froze in fear, waiting for its white eye to open like in some horror film, waiting for it to lash out. But as the minutes ticked by, it remained still. One thing was clear to Wilson though; the creature had collapsed. Whether from the wounds he'd made with his ax, he didn't know. However, he knew he had to get away before it woke.

But he was pinned, the beast's torso spread out on top of him. And the claw, he could still feel it in embedded in his shoulder, a strange hollow feeling that numbed his arm. He couldn't move and had no chance of escape. But the low rumbling around him told Wilson that it was still breathing. That at any moment it would awaken and realized that there was a little man underneath it. He didn't have much time.

Wilson tried to lift the thing off him, but his arms were useless. He could barely hold them up let alone push the giant thing aside. He was trapped between pounds of feather, flesh, and stone. And that wasn't changing anytime soon. He tried anyway, gripping tuffs of its feathers and attempted to push himself away. The effort only left him gasping, lightheaded and sick.

Suddenly a rippling tremor shook through him, a rumble ringing in his ears. The creature twitched, gurgling as it awoke. Slowly, sluggishly, it dragged itself up. Wonderfully the pressure lifted from Wilson's chest and he gulped in as much air as possible. It rose off him, shaking its head with a growl that Wilson felt through his bones.

Without warning the claw pinning his shoulder was ripped out of his shoulder. Sharp, burning pain so painful that Wilson literally saw white, black spots dancing across his eyes. A tremor rippled through his body and then, nothing.

* * *

At first, Wilson thought that he was dead. Yet as that cursed blue light returned, dull annoyance filled him when he found that he wasn't. He felt dull, feeling his life drain away through the hole in his shoulder. Even without the weight on his chest, his breath felt short and shallow. And to top it all off was the sad understanding that he had no way of surviving this wound. Not in the caves, not alone. This was finally the end of the nightmare. He just wished it wasn't taking so long.

Yet where was the creature? Surely it should have finished him off? Or at least starting eating him. But it was clear that it had done neither.

A scuffing sound reached his ears. It took all his strength just to turn his head to the towering mushroom, almost passing out again from the wooziness. There it was, the creature, digging around the trunk of the mushroom. At first glance, Wilson had no idea what the stupid thing was doing, until his backpack rolled into view. With the inquisitiveness of a cat, it pawed at his bag, before using its serrated beak to tear the fabric apart. Everything tumbled out onto the ground, all his basic supplies now littering the stone. With a sniff, it quickly found his most prized possession; his jerky. Quickly it ate them up with a happy gurgle.

Wilson watched on dully as it sorted through the rest of his belonging, chewing and eating almost everything. The only thing that was spared was his flint, it dismissing it with a flick of its beak. Even his pickaxe was not spared, the beast snapping it apart like it was a toothpick. Once it was does with his stuff it set to work on what was left of the backpack, ripping it piece by canvas piece.

Amazingly he found he could still force out a laugh. It was like some twisted joke. Even the monster she'd sent to kill him couldn't even be bothered to finish the job. His bag was more interesting to it than him. Or maybe that's what she'd commanded it to do, leave him to die slow and painful without a quick end. It was cruel and humiliating to Wilson, yet it seemed something Charlie would do.

When a quick attempt to sit up proved fruitless, he struggled to clear his throat, swallowing iron. " _What,_ " he croaked, his voice sounding nothing like his own.

" _Am I… too skinny for... you, eh… not worth…your time?_ "

The creature stilled, turning its head towards his voice. Bits of the backpack dropped from its beck carelessly as it stared at him with one, unblinking eye. It did nothing else, not a single sound utter from it as it merely looked down at Wilson, infuriating him more.

" _Come o-on you…fat chicken,_ " he spat, wishing he could through a rock at it. " _Do it._ "

The beast stared on, tilting it's head to one side. Abruptly the clicking echoed around the cave, its beak creating an eerie sound. With a few more final clicks it rose, stalking forward one paw at a time. It didn't hurry over to Wilson, cautiously slinking over with its head down low. To Wilson he could barely make out its form, it was nothing more than a shadow, one giant blob in the darkness.

Yet still, relief oddly filled him as it approached. To have it finished him off instead of him lying here till something else did was a comfort that while dreadful seemed right. It would be an end to this pain. End of the never-ending nightmare he'd had since he listened to that stupid radio. Maybe Charlie was giving him a blessing in disguise.

It loomed over him, breath foul and rotted. The serrated beak was inches from his chest snuffling at the wound its claw had made. Suddenly it pressed onto the wound, Wilson crying out at the searing pain. No, it wasn't supposed to be toying with him, if it did that - Sudden panic filled Wilson. Suddenly he was afraid to die, the realization of what was happening cleared his dull mind. His price for knowledge couldn't be this, it just couldn't. But he still couldn't move, all he could do was stare into the white, glassy eye. It was all he could see, nothing but black and white. That white eye reminded him of the shadowy monsters. Eyes that were so familiar he sudden swore he'd see them before in some long forgotten memory.

He didn't know nor see what it was doing, only that something dug under his torso agonizingly. Like knives were pricking his skin it felt like a clamp was crushing his torso, meaning only one thing. He waited for the beast to crush him in its jaws, yet instead, the world jolted violently. Up he rose, till he was suspended almost vertically. For a horrid moment, Wilson feared it was about to swallow him whole, throw him into to the air and kill him in such a horrid way. He squeezed his eyes shut as a rustling sounded, preparing for the worst. Yet suddenly the world shook violently, Wilson feeling like he'd just left his stomach and heart behind on the ground. They were in the air, the howling of the wind and drumming in his head making him squeeze his eyes tighter. Everything rushed past in a whoosh, and burning red was all Wilson could see. He opened his eyes, gasping.

Light.

In Wilson's eyes, there was suddenly warm, dawn sunlight. The world was completely wrong, upside down in a sickly way. The forest was above, the sky below and everything hurt. The image burned into his mind, impossible and awe-inspiring, seeming to last forever until the forest rushed above him. All to quick the trees were on top of him, the beast landing heavily onto the dirt. His body jarred, pain sparking from the hole in his shoulder.

Gently he was turned, the world returning to normal. The jagged beak parted as he was set to the ground on his knees. His torso, however, couldn't hold his weight and crumbling forward, leaving him hunched and struggling to hold in his lunch. A blast of wind almost knocked him over, the creature dashing away and nimbly jumping over the hole in the ground. At the tree line, it stopped, turning back to him.

For the first time, he saw it's form clearly. It was not black, but purple, a creature that looked like it belonged more in a museum than real life. It was like some prehistoric creature, the bill of an ancient bird and the body of some long-tailed feline. In the sun Wilson saw it had not two wings but four, both its forearms sprouting long prime feathers from its elbow. A mash-up of creatures, and in that moment he remembered.

Everything came back in a torrent of memories. He remembered everything. _Everything_. The madness exploded back, but this time his old self-surfaced too. He knew this creature, seen it long ago. He knew that form, those purple feathers, and witty behavior. Visions of Charlie, of him, of the beast, of shadowy figures, of a throne, a black throne flooded his mind. Wilson gasped and the creature stepped back towards him with a long mew, feathers puffing out. Did it remember? Could it possible remember who he was?

With all his strength and willpower Wilson raised his good arm, reaching out to it. Without warning the creature twist around, sprinting off into the woods. It left Wilson panting, the arm dropping limply to his side. But his mind was racing with the sudden idea. And the idea twitched a smile from the corner of his mouth.

 _"WILSON!"_

The high-pitched voice jolted him, too unreal he couldn't believe he'd heard right. Twisting his neck around he spotted Willow running through the pines, bursting into the small clearing. He couldn't he help but smile. Of course, Willow would come, extremely loyal and headstrong that she was, that one. Ah, and the muscle-headed Wolfgang too, wonderful-

Everything blurred and tilted, next minute he was lying on his back, looking at the cloudy sky. Willow's face filled the place, wide-eyed and fearful as she grabbed him. But Wilson ignored her, suddenly feeling so happy. A chuckle burst from his lips and the next minute he was laughing, bubbles of laughter he found he couldn't stop.

"Wilson! Hey… Will, get ahold of yourself!" She gripped his shirt collar and tugged, trying to get him to stop. But he couldn't stop, his pain all but forgotten. She had to know what this meant! What it meant for them!

Dismissing the wound on his shoulder he grabbed her own collar and pull her eye level. " She's failed," he laughed, feeling his own raw manic in her own fearful eyes. " Don't you see, my dear, she's failed! The Queen of hearts failed at the only thing she's supposed to do! They'll be mad, very mad once they see this!"

Willow tried to pull away from his grip, but he only held on tighter. Why couldn't she see what this meant? " She's failed, the throne's still in reach. We can take the throne from the Queen! The door.. _we need to find the cursed door, NOW!_ "

"Wo-w- _Wolfgang!_ "

Strong hands pinned him down onto the ground, ripping his hands off Willows' neck. Neck? Hadn't he'd been holding her shirt?

"Calm down Little Man," The strongman growled, locking his arms. " You're mad again."

Wilson's laughter turned to giggles, his body growing heavy. Willow was looking down at her hand. It was crimson, crimson dripping down her forearm, from her fingers, staring at him horrorstruck.

"The..door," He muttered, suddenly he was sleepy, all the happiness draining from him. " We must… find Maxwell's door…"

His eyelids grew so heavy and he closed his eyes, floating away.

* * *

 **AN: Sorry for the long gaps in this story, I try and write them as quick as possible, yet my life always seems to go wrong at the worst of times. I'm hoping to bank up a few chapters to make some regular updates. But I've discovered writing two stories at once is quite difficult!**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6:**_

* * *

Wilson jolted awake with a gasp, half-expecting to find his companions next to him. But above him was nothing but darkness, he was alone. Quickly pushing away his surprise he cautiously sat up, gently using his bad arm. Oddly the burning pain was no existent, puzzling him as to why.

Patting his shoulder confirmed his fear that the stab wound was gone. Instead of the woodlands around him, there was nothing but grey, chalky dirt. The trees were dead and as bone white as the rest of the world. Around him, the world shimmered with black, sinister shapes barely visible in the gloom. Wilson groaned, grumbling as he got to his feet. Wonderful, so he was back here again. He had hoped that he'd never come back. But it was clear from the dull whispers that the shadow creatures were still here, jeering at him.

"Oh, shut it!" he snapped, glaring into the dark as they sniggered back. If he was here, then that meant he had gone completely mad. Which was never a good thing because he was back here. Wilson massaged the back of his neck, rubbing away the tension that was growing there. "Ah, Ms. Wickerbottom is going to kill me… they're all going to kill me! And everything was starting to go well too…"

Wilson huffed, shoulders slumping. "Well, I suppose that's what I get for being an idiot. What was sane-me thinking, moving around in the dark! My brains being wasted. "He frowned at a sudden thought, peering out into the darkness. "Though if I'm here, then that would mean- "

Like on cue that a familiar, painful sound reached his ears. It was music, a scratchy, upbeat tune that he'd hear countless times before. Twisting around he spotted flames of green dancing in the dark, resting on top of white-stone pillars.

"There it is, my headache."

Knowing that it was pointless to just snub it. After all, he probably knew he had entered his place. Wilson walked towards the light, sending up a trail of ash as he went. Into the light, he stepped, into the company of the lunatic.

"Say, Pal," the man said, breathing out a long puff of his cigar. "You don't look so good."

Wilson glared at the dapper man before him, sitting lazily on a plush armchair. Every single thing about him boiled Wilson's blood, the arrogant way he sat, the smirk plastered on his face, even that cursed cigar. So furious the sight of this man made him he was tempted to ram him out of his chair.

"Maxwell."

The man grinned at the venom in his voice, arm swaying in the air. " I was waiting for you to show up. Truth be told I was fearing I'd never see you again."

"I have better things to do with my time than mope around here." Wilson sneered back, eyeing the gramophone with distaste. " I see you're still wasting your time doing nothing, like usual."

"You wound me Higgsbury! I'm actually quite a busy man. More than you think."

" Sure, you are…" he didn't believe it for a second. He knew how much Maxwell liked to dump the work onto others whenever he could. Working just wasn't in his nature.

Maxwell abruptly gasped, sitting up with a jolt. " Where are my manner!? It's not every day that I get a guest, as there's only the two of us, after all. Come, pull up a chair and sit down, I'm dying to hear what you've been up to!"

Out of nowhere, an exact copy of the armchair Maxwell was sitting on appeared across from him, materializing from the grey ash. Wilson looked down at the thing with distrust. No way was he about to act all chummy with this guy. " I don't need to sit down."

"Don't be such a killjoy! My neck's going to hurt staring up at you."

"I'll pass."

"Come now, I insist!"

"No!"

"Higgsbury, _I insist."_

Wilson sighed angrily, giving up. Maxwell would drag him into the chair if he had too. Deliberately he slowly lowered himself in the chair, unable to hide the sudden happy feeling that sitting in the comfortable thing made him. It had been so long since he'd sat in a real chair, even if it was made up of nothing. Maxwell smirked at his reaction, taking another puff from the endless cigar.

"How about a game, eh?" Maxwell chuckled, and with a wave of his other hand, a chess-table appeared between them. " It's been forever since I had a good opponent. It's no fun always winning when you're only playing yourself! But you always give me a run for my money Higgsbury."

Leaning back into the cushion back, Wilson exhaled through his nose, eyes closed. " I'm not playing chess with you, Maxwell. That's final."

"Oh, come on! Why waste your time sitting there worrying over everything? You've got nothing better to do, no arrangements. So, what's better than spending your dream than playing a little round with me. I'll let you be Black, you always like playing second-"

"I don't want to play your stupid games!" Wilson snapped, voice cutting through the air loudly. At his angry the chess-table dissolving away into a pile of ash, drifting to the ground.

Maxwell blinked in surprise. "Oh-ho! I didn't know you could still do that."

Wilson gripped the arms of the seat so hard his fingers ached. "You think that after all that's happened you and I are friends? Well, I hate to break it to you _Pal,_ but I hate you. And that isn't changing anytime- "

"- Now hate is such a strong word, I would say more…annoyed- "

"- _you ruined my life!"_

"Hey, that was all you Pal, you're the fool that listened to a voice coming from a radio!"

"Don't you dare call me a fool when you're the idiot that started all this!"

"Ah, there you go, always put the responsibility on me. Blame, blame, blame, that's' all you do to me when I'm just as much a victim here- "

"- _Unbelieve_ ," Wilson threw his hands up into the air. "You still think, after all this time, that I'm somehow partly at fault with this mess _you_ made!"

"Well, I'd say half 'n' half at fault here- "

"Forget it!" Wilson scowled, sitting forward with his elbows resting on his knees. " You're as stubborn as a mule in accepting your mistakes. Charlie's on the move. You know that, right?"

The dapper man's expression sobered, the amused smirk replaced with a mournful look. With a flick of his wrist, he re-creating the chessboard. " Of course, I know. It's no mistake that Charlie's favorite flower has started appearing throughout the land. Course I would notice."

"Then shouldn't we be worried about that? It's the first sign in month's we've had of her. Maybe… it's some sort of threat."

"I doubt it." Maxwell peered at the board, gently picking up a pawn. " Charlie's trying to break the rules, in her way. And They're only accepting it because it's _different._ If she's still working with a half-sane mind, she'll think she can control the board. But it won't last forever. Once They grow tired of her it's bad to the same old game."

"Break the rules? That's impossible. You don't just change the rules, I tried that."

"Well, maybe you didn't try hard enough, eh?"

Wilson bristled at his words, and it didn't help that Maxwell was patiently waiting for him to make a move on the board. Angrily he picked up one of his knight's and moved it out. " Don't test me, your old crone. You know darn well I tried everything. What I'm worried about is what she'll create. The worlds changing, getting harder. Already new things are beginning to appear, and winter's coming sooner than ever. That's not a good sign."

"It's always like that with a new reign. Though I suppose for you that threat would be more of a problem. What with the little group you've brought together."

Wilson rolled his eyes. " You're _still_ going on about that? What's your problem with me helping them? Those people would be dead without each other. By aiding them I am giving them the hope of escape. What's wrong with that?"

 _"Hope?"_ Maxwell snorted, moving another pawn. " Is that what you call it? They can't escape. None of us can. You know that from experience. Beside Higgsbury, would they be so happy to have you lead them if they knew the truth of this world?"

Wilson moved his other knight, gaze darkening. "They don't need to know the truth. The truth would destroy their will to survive. It would break them- Wait... wasn't that the same trick you play with me? Giving me false hope to continue on when I thought there was nothing left. Then luring me all the way to the end only to destroy all my hopes of ever escaping? You're not but a hypocrite if you think what I'm doing is no different."

"True, but you knew the endgame. I never told you there was a way to escape, it was you who thought there was. My challenges were only set so that I might finally be free." Maxwell moved his rock, eyebrow curling. " What your doing is blocking out your most important memories, outright lying to both them and to yourself. Then implanting false promises. Isn't that worse?"

"It's none of your business what I do," Wilson grumbled, moving his white bishop. " I'd rather forget than deal with the madness of it all. Besides, I'm not just forgetting to 'implant' false hopes, It's protection. Protection for them."

"Suit yourself," the man smirked, rolling the cigar between his lips. " But sooner or later you're going to have to face the truth. You can't run from Them forever."

"Neither can you." Wilson frowned, watching as he moved another pawn. " Is your door still where you left it?"

"I suppose... why do you- no Higgsbury, you can't possibly think to challenge the throne now!"

"It's my group's only chance of escape. If she's busy building a new world, her mind will be to other things. This could be my only chance to set things right. I can't let it slip by."

"Think for a moment!" Maxwell looked at him like he was still half-mad. " If, and I mean IF you somehow get to the throne room, what then? Charlie kicked you off the last time with her shadow powers, how in the hell do you hope to beat her now, you have nothing! and don't tell me that group of yours is going to change that?"

" I guess it's just a hunch, but I think that Charlie's isn't in full control yet." Wilson moved the black bishop, locking his eyes onto the man. " I think she's made a vital mistake. And if that's true, then I have a chance."

"A mistake?" Maxwell frowned, staring down at the board. At the sight of Wilson mirrored, orderly pieces he snickered. "You always start your games like that, every time, in that neat little formation."

"Better than your mess of play. You start utterly random."

"Ah, it might look random, but's it's far from it Pal!" His face relaxed, worry crossing his pale face. "Let's be serious. I for one know when to let sleeping dogs lie. Living in this side of the world isn't as bad as all that. They leave you alone as long as you stay quiet and suffer. By challenging them again you're only going to put yourself through more pain."

"Coward," Wilson muttered planning his next move as Maxwell barked with laughter.

"I'm a smart coward! This might not be the real world, but I'm now free! Free to do whatever I what in this cursed place. Isn't that what you what too Higgsbury? Now with the knowledge you've gained, you can experiment and invent to your heart's content. Isn't' that wonderful?"

"It's a fake freedom. We are not free Maxwell. Don't kid to yourself," He lent back into the armchair, looking about the shadowlands around them. "look where we are. This isn't freedom, it's a dead end. And until we escape this dreadful place that isn't going to change."

The dapper man looked sadly at Wilson, matching his pose. " We can't get out of here."

"Only because you've never truly tried." Wilson scowled, pointing a finger into the armrest. " I'm not giving up as easily as you did."

It made Maxwell laugh again. "Oh, you've still got a lot to learn, Pal!"

Wilson ignored him, moving his right knight forward on the board. " Don't patronize me."

They returned both to their hunched position, completely soundless as Maxwell stared at the chess board. The music played on. And on. Such a loud, granting noise that Wilson could feel it numbing his mind, eating away at his brain. He watched the record spin, never ending as it taunted them.

"I hate that thing," Wilson muttered, tearing Maxwell's eyes away from their game.

"I forgot. I'm afraid I drown it out now. But yes, they do like to drive me mad with it. Don't try to turn it off here, I tried that already. It doesn't work and brings nasty results with it."

Wilson hummed, debating whether to go against Maxwell's advice. He was about to test it when suddenly he felt a wave of drowsiness, his shoulder blooming in pain. He cried out, gripping his right shoulder as it stung like crazy.

The man blew a smoke ring. "Looks like your time's up."

Wilson gritted his teeth, watching as his left hand began to break away into dust. "So soon."

"You forget time moves differently here."

"Right..." It was one of the reasons he hated coming to this place, the odd feeling as his body began to dissolve away when he woke up, turning to ash like everything else in this place. "I'm still going after your door. With or without your support."

"Suit yourself," Maxwell sighed, watching him curiously. " Do come back before then though, I really would like to finish this game by the next century. Waiting for you to go insane is such a bore now."

Wilson grunted, slumping in the chair. He was just so exhausted. " Next time you jerk... it might be in the waking...world."

Maxwell smirked, " Why bother coming to me? You won't even remember our talks here anyway. By Joe, you won't remember anything in the past! And now that I think about it, how are you going to get to my door if you yourself don't know too?"

" True," Wilson smiled, the world sinking away. " I won't... But if I…can't remember…she will."

Closing his eyes, he felt the last of himself drift back into darkness, the song echoing, echoing. Then gone.


End file.
